Wednesday, May 28, 2008

She

I do it every night now. When it's dark, when the rest of the house is asleep, or almost, I untangle my tiny newborn bundle from my arms and lay him down in his nest and ease my birth-battered body from our bed. I make my way - gingerly, gingerly - around the bed, supporting myself on furniture, against the walls, down the hallway, to her door.

I open it slowly, holding my breath against the creaks, and slip inside. There, in the dark, is she, my first baby. Rumpled and tangled in her blankets, her breathing slow and deep, strands of fluffy blonde hair stuck to her damp, pink cheeks, she is every inch the baby. A big baby, but still. A baby, my baby. In the quiet, in repose, she is no longer toddler, no longer little girl, no longer big sister - she is just she, my first born, my first baby, always a baby, always soft and vulnerable and in need of me, always in need of me.

I bend over the rail of her bed, and kiss her cheek, and stroke her hair and whisper nothing, everything, about how I love her so, how I adore her, how I miss her. How every nuzzle of her brother's cheek brings a memory of her; how every clutch and suck and moment of skin pressed against newborn skin makes my heart burst for him and yearn for her; how my love for him has made my love for her grow and stretch and strain and ache.

How I love her, how I love her.

In the morning she will wake, and run past me, blowing a kiss as she clambers into Daddy's arms, waving gaily as she embarks upon the great adventure of a new day, while I sit, constrained, restrained, by the injuries of childbirth and new motherhood (shredded nethers, ravaged nips), my new love in my arms, my new love demanding everything of me and yielding himself to me, pressing himself to me, in return. I will drink up his love, bathe in his love, as she speeds away, leaving me in her wake, grasping at droplets, holding back tears.

But it doesn't matter, because, always, she will stop again, however briefly, and rest, and she will allow me to bend over her bed, in the dark, and stroke her cheek and tell her how I love her, my first, my girl.

112 Comments:

That is gorgeous. I have a girl (older) and her brother, who came 33 months later. I felt this same way. How I missed my baby girl. The amazing part is that two years later, we are this unit. This family of four. And it all fits beautifully.

Best wishes for you in the days ahead. Each one that passes will be better than the last.

I know I'm seriously hormonal and ABOUT TO GIVE BIRTH, but holy hell, C...this was so beautiful the tears are running down my cheeks.I had this very moment last night. And the night before last. And every night, forever and ever.Our babies. Always.

Wow. Just wow.I have an older girl and a younger boy (30 months apart) and I do the same thing every night. I think the same thoughts and feel the same feelings. But you've expressed it so perfectly - all of it!

My girl is the brightest star, my sun, my world. But that boy, oh he is just the same but so very different!

I have a 5-year-old and an almost 3-year-old. THIS, what you described, is what happens when you have 2 children (or more, but I can imagine). Its an expansion and a contraction of your heart and soul, all at the same time. Its a beautiful ache that you can't get enough of. You captured it so beautifully. Thank You. Heal well.

This is so lovely. I am not as battered as you at the moment, but I steal into PunditGirl's room every nite to look and watch and listen. How did she get to be 8 already? That is too far from babyhood for me.

Oh sweet Moses, this made me bawl. My baby is almost six and I, too, tiptoe into her room after she is asleep to marvel at how much I can love another human being. Thank you for expressing so beautifully how love grows exponentially with another child.

My baby girl is 33 years old and I still feel this same way. You cannot replace the first..ever. It never meant that I didn't love the other two exactly the same way, but the first time you wear your heart outside your body is just that. The first time. And my daughter, now the mother of two, feels the same way about her first.The first prepares you for what is too follow, and that is so very, very special.

Sobbing over here!!! I don't know if "afraid" is the right word, but it will have to do for now...I am so afraid of that kind of love! How is it possible to love two babies so much? I honestly don't think my heart could take all the love and fear and guilt. You're awesome!

That is it, exactly. I can't believe I went through that so many times. Willingly! Half of me would yearn for the time when it was just me and *my other baby*...and the other half would be swooning in love with my new little one. Motherhood is tricky like that.

I had to go in an kiss my almost 13 year old son (1st in line of 3 - soon to be 4) after reading your post. Sometimes I forget how sweet and innocent he is. My first born. My baby boy. Thanks for the reminder.

Seriously. I read this in a room full of people playing wii and I cried like a baby. They all thought I was nuts. I showed it to my mother, who was there as well, and she cried too. Never in my life have I read something that so truely captured my feelings so well. My second is now 9 months old (and co-sleeps), but after she lays down at night I still find myself in the room of my first born baby girl. My god, HBM. My god how wonderful this post is.

Of course you love her. She's your baby, too. And remember that you have not taken anything from her, but instead have given her a lifelong person, someone who will hold her childhood in trust for her for the rest of her life, someone to laugh and remember with 60 years from now.

Oh my, where to begin? I had twins on my first try and I swear I go in there every night and just watch them both sleep. My heart pulls at each of them equally for sooo many different reasons. They together are my firsts and will always be. I'm working on making #3 but its not going as easily as making the first two on the first try. I can't explain how loving twins could be any different because it isn't. They are both magnetic in my love for them because I love them both fully with all my heart. I know I will love the next just as much. As one reader said, now you know. I can't say I know in the way of a second child but as a mother of two. Your heart belongs to them equally but differently and always will. Wonderful post my dear. So very wonderful...

Wow. That was so beautiful - and so true! I remember those same feelings when my second was born. It's a wonderful and heartbreaking time.

It does get better. Those first months (heck, that first year for me!) are so hard. It's such a monumental transition for everyone. But, it does get easier. Brother and sister become friends, and everyone becomes a family that loves each other.

love just grows and expands doesn't it.what a beautiful post catherine.and thats such a sweet pic of wonderbaby.when i was pregnant with #3 the veins in my breast, right side,made a blue veined heart shaped tatoo.it was a constant reminder to me of how much more love would be in my family.it has since faded away but i remember those precious moments of having a new baby and how much love i had for her older siblings LAVANDULA

Oh boy, Catherine, did you put a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes with this post. I look at Kaitlyn sleeping, a big 2.5 year old, so close to leaving toddlerhood behind and becoming a big girl, and it makes me ache, makes me wish she would just STAY SMALL.

Your Speed Racer both had me racing through to the end, I'm so sorry for the tearing and the scariness but OH, is he a handsome baby! I'm so glad both of you are okay :)

WOW...that was incredible Catherine! I still go in and watch my oldest son, who is almost 14, sleeping (shhh....don't tell!) and remember holding him close as an infant....and my baby, who is now almost 4, I cherish every moment with her and try so hard to take note of everything--knowing it goes by so fast!!!

I'm scheduled for a c-section in just a short 6 weeks. My little Zoe has no idea what is in store for us when she becomes a big sister. I'm sure my nights will include a trip to visit her little sleepy self each night.

It's no different, really, no matter how many you have. I still go into my oldest's room every night, still sit on the edge of her bed and see the little baby she was, the baby that made me the mother I am. And she's 8.

Beautifully said! It brought tears to my eyes. I still sneak a peek in on my 18 year old when I know he is sleeping, I would look in on my 22 year old if he was here. I catch myself remembering them as babies. It goes without saying I look in on my 8 year old and cherish the few minutes of quiet I am receiving!

argh- you can always get me to break down into tears. i'm expecting so much grief at the loss of what we are when her baby brother arrives- have been soaking her up as much as i can in the meantime, she doesn't get it but it doesn't matter.

I have been reading your blog for a long time and this is the very first time I have commented. This post is beautiful. It puts into words something I have been unable to find the words for. I'm Mommy to 3, my oldest is 9, then 7 and 5...two boys and a girl. I love all my children more than words can say but there is something different with my oldest. He made me a Mom. He held my heart first. There will always be something different between us... even now as he is beginning to be too big for snuggles and doesn't always want to share his hugs especially around his friends. I still find myself venturing into his room as he sleeps just to move his hair, cover him or just LOOK at him. Thank you for putting these emotions into beautiful words. Congratulations on your new little one! Welcome to the wonderful world of boys! Julie

I have four children. I have felt the guilt, pain, and loss each time I added to my family. It is a part of it. But we make it through. Everyone. And it makes us better, stronger, people. It's what makes us a family.

That was a heartstopping post. Your Wonderbaby will always carry that special place in your heart.

I must remind my firstborn that he is still his mommy's treasure... it can be difficult when his little sister is a demanding diva and the one grabbing all the attention. We sometimes take his maturity and even-temper for granted and I would never want him to feel lost in the shuffle.

Oh my God, HBM. I sit here tearing (okay, sobbing hysterically) as I await the birth of my second with a 20-month old blissfully napping in the next room. I miss my old baby already so much that my heart bursts. Is there enough love to go around? Will it break my heart when all she wants is me and I'm busy with the new baby? Will it break my heart when it's not me she wants?

kris - it will break your heart and bind it all the tighter. Your heart will expand to bursting, and then burst, and then pull itself back together into a much much bigger heart and it will heart but it will also feel so, so amazing.

Oh my. So beautiful and so perfectly expresses what I felt when my baby girl was born 12.5 months ago. I felt so guilty for missing her brother while holding her. So guilty for feeling guilty. 12.5 months later, I love her so fiercely I don't know what to do with myself. I love him so fiercely I don't know what to do with myself. But, yes, the first made me a mommy and the first taught me so much.

I usually just lurk and I know there are over 100 comments already...but I just had to say thanks. This is exactly how I feel. My second will be four months old next week and my first is five y.o. You said it perfectly.

This was beautiful. Simply stunning. I have a 15 month old daughter, and I do want another baby someday but I've always worried about sharing myself with another one. You've captured these feelings for the future me. Thank you.

Oh my! I am sitting at work with tears streaming down my cheeks and a soreness in my throat that I can't shake.

You but into words EXACTLY how I feel about my little girl. When I look at her brother (26 months apart) I can only see her at that age and I physically hurt. Not because I don't love him just as much, but because I see the passing of time that I can't stop.

I don't know if my Mum ever did but I know my Dad did something similar. I used to talk in my sleep, so what started as a joke was that my Dad came in sat at the end of my bed and continue the conversation with me - apparently it would make sense! I'd never remember anything we talked about in the morning.